All The Things She Said
by Petite Rogue
Summary: t.A.T.U Challenge. Whilst many found her annoying, to Gregory Goyle, Lavender Brown was the shining light in his life. Follows their lives after the war.
1. Chapter 1: Imprisoned

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc. In this fanfiction. I just like writing. They're just kinda borrowed. In a way._

_

* * *

_**All The Things She Said  
**

**Chapter One. **

**Imprisoned**

**

* * *

**

_All the things she said  
All the things she said  
Running through my head  
Running through my head  
Running through my head  
(Running through my head)_

_**

* * *

**_

The ocean.

That's all there ever was anymore, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks outside, turbulent. Gregory Goyle had never felt his mind so turbulent until now; the guards sucking away at any happiness, forcing memories from the back of his mind to the forefront, forcing him to think, an activity he had gladly avoided these past years. Day in, day out, he would watch Vincent dying before his very eyes, and every time he would wish that he could have perished with him in that fire. His mother's disappointment would soon follow, at his grades, the way his life had turned out, his imprisonmnet, mixed in with his own disappointment which was just as potent as the look he had seen in his mother's eyes as they led him away. He thought about everything, and it hurt.

But he stayed strong, her voice running through his mind, keeping him going when he was sure he would soon give up. It pierced through the darkness, the only ray of light he ever saw.

He had found her at the battle, wounded. Though a part of him screamed at him to do away with her, that it was his duty, instead he had picked up her delicate body and carried her away. She had said nothing as nuzzled into his body, feeling safe at last.

Lavender had known he would come.

He placed her down at the furthest edge possible, taking off his cloak to place under her head. Silently, he stripped bits of cloth to bandage her wounds. She was surprised, he could tell, but he did not feel like explaining, and she asked no questions of him, only wincing when his clumsy hands pressed a little too hard, or grazed a wound unintentionally.

"Crabbe, he died," was all he managed after silence punctured by distant cries and noises threatened to engulf them. "In a fire. He died."

"He was a mean one," she had reassured him, taking his hand in hers. "Better him than you."

"I'm a bad person too."

She shook her head.

"No, you're not Greg. I know you're not."

He held on to the knowledge that beyond the stone walls that kept him enclosed, there was someone out there who did not think him evil.

* * *

_All the things she said__  
__All the things she said__  
__Running through my head__  
__Running through my head__  
__(Running through my head)**

* * *

**_

He would think about how they had first met.

She had been in tears, and he had been sitting outside, grateful for a few minutes away from everything. Being around Draco those days was no easy task, and he had taken to getting out by himself to be alone, even if just for five minutes. She sat herself down next to him, seeming not to notice him at all. He had offered her his handkerchief. For a few moments she had looked at him as if he were another species. That was before she had burst out crying, burying her head in his chest. Gregory would have preferred it if she used the handkerchief rather than his shoulder to dry her tears, but he said nothing. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but he felt cold when she finally wiped her sleeve across her face and got up and left.

He would return to the same place, often, and some days she would be there, and other days she would not. Sometimes they would talk, and sometimes they would not.

"Why are you always crying?" he asked one day.

"Because no one loves me."

"What happened to Weasley?"

"He left me for that Granger girl!"

"The Mudblood?"

She had blinked at him. "That's not a very nice word you know."

* * *

_This is not enough**

* * *

**_

But for all the memories of her he held, all the words she had said, it was never enough to fight the Dementors, to fight the screams that echoed through the prison down to his cell. It was never enough to stifle his own screams that would bring him out of what little sleep he could get. The awful creatures sensed his hope, and they would swoop down on him. He wondered why they were still in use. Were they not evil too? Perhaps they thought it better to keep all the scum in one place.

As his trial approached, he grew more and more certain that he was a bad person, and he would be back in that cell as quickly as they pronounced him guilty.

* * *

**_A/N: _**Another day, another songficlet by yours truly. This is for the t.A.T.U. fanfiction challenge, using their song 'All The Things She Said', pairing together two lovers you would not think go together, but after careful deliberation, I think they do. Enjoy reading, and please review! I like those very much.


	2. Chapter 2: Freedom Comes At A Price

_Disclaimer: Nota belonga to me-a.

* * *

_

**All The Things She Said**

**Chapter 2.**

**Freedom Comes At A Price**

* * *

_I'm in serious shit, I feel totally lost

* * *

_

Free. He was free.

Gregory Goyle was also very poor, forced to pay reparations for damages caused during the war. He was pretty sure he hadn't inflicted any damage at any point, he'd been at Hogwarts most of the time, but still he paid, because it meant he was free. He was an orphan; but no one saw it as such as he approached his nineteenth, he'd been an adult for two years now. And besides, his father had died because he deserved it, and his mother should have been strong enough to survive the grief. Gregorian Goyle had been given The Kiss a few weeks before his release. Gregory had no money to run Goyle Manor, even if he knew how to, and he was not sure entirely sure how he was to go about selling it either.

His freedom had come at a price. But at least he was free.

He was also a social pariah. He walked down wizarding streets, and the crowds would part, afraid of this burly character with hair that stuck up in all directions, never one to be tamed. Not only was he a former Death Eater, be he _looked_ like a former Death Eater, which was the problem. No employment, and they all refused to give him a home.

He was free, but oh so completely lost.

He soon grew used to wandering the streets, mostly aimlessly, finding cover where he could and when could. He was used to the outdoors, a trait his father had passed down to him and he set up camp when night fell, and awoke the next day to continue his pleas for work, for a home, for food, for anything. Even a shred of kindness made his day.

The Muggles he had once taunted were the ones who looked upon him kindly. A small cafe near Diagon Alley, owned by an aging lady and cared for by her plump daughter would let him have free coffee refills every other day.

One day he was sat there, nursing his third coffee of the day, thumbing through an old copy of the Daily Prophet he had stumbled across.

It was then and there that he came across her name.

* * *

_**A/N: **_Here's another installment for you guys! Thanks for the reviews, do keep them coming, for they are much appreciated. If any of you have read **_Samson_**, you'll know that my chapters for this kind of fic will vary in length - don't worry, they won't all be this length! If you haven't read Samson, then I highly recommend it, because it's actually not that bad ;) Until next time.


	3. Chapter 3: Finding Help

_Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Seeking Help.**

* * *

_If I'm asking for help it's only because__  
__Being with you has opened my eyes_

_**

* * *

**_

The receptionist kept casting him suspicious looks.

He had grown used to it. Weeks of living the life of the nomad had trimmed his imposing figure, but he had grown a wiry beard, and his eyes were always dark, tired, heavy. He looked like a man with a history, and even those who did not instantly see him as a former murderer, though he had not killed anyone which is why he was out freely walking the streets, they remained wary.

When he first set eyes, they widened in surprise. She looked so beautiful; to his eyes, she was an angel. Her hair tumbles in golden waves, accentuating the blue eyes that smiled at him though her mouth remained in the same thin line as the colleagues who stopped to tactfully stare. Time had done her well, but like all survivors, she bore scars and that same war weary aura.

Leading him into her office, out of the scrutiny of her colleagues, there she welcomed him warmly.

The affection was strange for Gregory. He had not been touched by any one other than the Muggle commuters who hurried past him, pushing past without a backward glance as they carried on with their lives. Here she had wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight, welcoming him like an old friend. He guessed they _were_ old friends.

Tea was poured, biscuits handed out (he had to tell himself to stop after two), and then they reached the reason for his visit, as joyous as his dropping by was.

"I need your help."

"What kind of help?"

"A job."

"We're looking for a building maintenance manager."

"Anything."

"Where are you staying?"

"In a tent."

"_A tent_? Why?"

"People don't like my kind of people."

She frowned, staring into the tea she cupped with both her hands thoughtfully before she finally spoke.

"Come stay with me."

"Why?"

"Because _I_ know you're a good person Greg."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this update is sooo late. I'm terrible at updating, I really am. Next chapter should be up soon. Enjoy and thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4: Life WIth Lavender

**Chapter 4. **

**Life With Lavender.**

* * *

_Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise?_  
_I keep asking myself, wondering how__  
__I keep closing my eyes but I can't block you out**

* * *

**_

Gregory settled into life with Lavender.

Every night he would lie awake on the sofa, listening to the sounds of the night, which often included the distant wails of those Muggle contraptions he had deduced were called ambo lancers, and at times the late night scratching of Lavender's quill against the scraps of parchment that littered her room. Sometimes when she was out, curiosity would lead him there. She had decorated her room to match her name, accompanied with white wood furnishing giving the room a distinctive girl feel. He did not like it, but it was hers, and somehow he could stand it then.

Besides, the rest of the apartment wasn't too bad.

In those hours, he couldn't believe he had escaped the grips of the Dementors, that he had escaped the life of a tramp and was now living with the one person who had given him hope through all of this. The food in his stomach, the new dress robes on his back, the badge he wore proudly on his chest with his name was all due to her.

Gregory thought only of her, even though he knew that it was pointless, and he would sometimes awaken with a headache. She was an award-winning gossip columnist, and he was the Argus Filch of the Daily Prophet headquarters. Lavender had replaced Rita Skeeter, who was now a renown gossip author, which was worse in his mind; whilst he could read Lavender's columns with some patience because they were only a page at most, he had no patience for whole books of gossip.

He liked that Lavender hated reading books as much as he did. Instead, they read newspapers and magazines. Those he didn't mind because they were short, had pictures and he felt as if he was part of the fold when he strode into work with one tucked under his arm. Once or twice, on the lift up to his work station someone would start a conversation about a headline. It made his day when he could do more than nod and mumble generalisations.

It made his week when he and Lavender had an entire discussion without him getting confused somewhere along the way. She would get this look in her eyes, and he wondered if then she wanted to kiss him as he wanted to kiss her.

Instead they settled back into the sofa and looked for something on that square box with the talking pictures he could never remember the name of.

Though he never said this out loud, Gregory counted himself as one of the lucky survivors. He had a job, he had a home, and he had someone who cared for him, and that was all he needed. All he wanted. He had learnt at a young age that it was better for the heart not to ever expect too much from life. Disappointment hurt. Also, sometimes his work took him to Knockturn Alley, where they still sold what Diagon Alley did not have. Many of the businesses were closed on order of the Ministry of Magic, and the street was lined with beggars instead of the pedlars who had once made a living off the shady. He had seen Marcus Flint amongst them, and probably failed to recognise others who had been in his House.

How the mighty fall.

* * *

_Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me**

* * *

**_

"What do you think about?"

They were sitting at the table in the kitchen eating dinner. It was a Saturday, the one day when they made sure to eat dinner together at a table. She worked from home at the weekends, and he worked shorter hours, but on Sunday they liked to eat in front of the box. Sunday was the one day when Lavender wasn't feeding him grass and pasta that tasted like cardboard because he had agreed to support her on some stupid diet she was on. He never asked about the ice cream in the freezer and the packets of chocolates stashed behind all the sauces in the kitchen cupboard. He reasoned she had her reasons.

"When?" he asked, confused. What a strange question. He thought about many things during the course of the day, not all which he remembered.

"When you get all quiet and stare into space as if you're in another world. When we're watching television and it's like you don't even notice what's going on in front of you."

"I think about..." His eyes were on his salad, the one he had already picked out the tomatoes and cucumbers, his favourite diet food she fed him. "I think about being with you. Like a couple."

"Oh, Greg-"

He stopped her, not needing to hear the inevitable rejection.

"I know, I know we can't. I just wish there was a place in this world where we could."

"How about right here? We can be right here."

She reached across the table, and placed a hand on top of his. The warmth her hands radiated and the smile she gave him sent his heart racing. In that moment, Gregory felt like the luckiest man on Earth.

Harry Potter had nothing on him.

* * *

_Nobody else so we can be free

* * *

_

And her – well, _their_ apartment became their haven.

At work, if they passed each other, they would nod to each other, and sometimes if he was going out for coffee, he would ask her assistant if she wanted a break and he would get it for all three of them. They had all grown used to his presence, and the wary glances had not stopped, but were less frequent and far between. It was only when he forgot to charm his hair into compliance or did not shave that they increased.

At home, the only glances he got were the loving ones Lavender shot him over her magazine as he fixed the kitchen table they had accidentally broken the night before. Or there was that one special glances that she gave, and he had to brace himself for what would follow. It hadn't taken long to find out that Lavender was a woman with needs, and they were met when she wanted them met.

And Gregory wasn't one to argue.

They worked well, because even though he wasn't the talking type, Lavender could talk more than enough for the both of them, and he enjoyed listening to her voice, twisting her blonde curls around his fingers as she rested her head in his lap. Their life in the apartment rotated mainly around the sofa where they spent most of their time, sometimes going to the kitchen, and when night time fell, they would move into the bedroom. Their bedroom.

Though he hated the colour Lavender, the woman in his arms with the same name was enough to make him forget that he was lying in a room he hated.

As long as she was there, the world was perfect.

* * *

_Nobody else so we can be free**

* * *

**_

Or close to being perfect.

Months passed, and as their relationship grew it begun to feel cramped in the one bedroom apartment on the posh side of Muggle London, where everyone wore suits and carried briefcases and the women all looked the same. They were pretty, some even beautiful, but they had nothing on Lavender. He Flooed to work to avoid having to navigate through the confusing wardrobe of Muggle clothing Lavender had bought him one week, but some times he liked to stretch his feet, and to walk among people who had not a clue of who he was. He liked the anonymity of the Muggle crowds. He couldn't understand why the Dark Lord had been so desperate to kill them all. They didn't seem that bad.

On one of his walks, something caught his eye.

It was a shop with pictures of sunny places with beaches and seas, and foreign countries he had heard of written on posters with prices underneath them. The sign told him that this was a travel agents. He wasn't quite sure what they did, but he felt the urge to go inside.

He approached the lady in the nasty coloured shirt sitting behind the desk.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"What is it that you do here?"

"We are a travel agents. You can come to us and we help you to book the perfect holiday break. We can help with anything from flights to all-inclusive holiday packages. Did you have anything in mind sir?"

"Somewhere far away where I can be with the one I love."

"Well, take a seat sir, and maybe we can talk through some options."

When Gregory left the travel agents a little while later, clutching a selection of brochures, he felt that finally they could get away and be together without being under the constant scrutiny of the wizarding community.

The Muggle world wasn't that different, was it?

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Yay, an update! Hope you enjoy the story, thanks for reading, and do tell me what you think in a review :)


	5. Chapter 5: Holding Hands

_Disclaimer: Don't own this wonderful shizzle, even though I wrote it._

* * *

**All The Things She Said.**

**Chapter 5.**

**Holding Hands**

**

* * *

**_All the things she said  
All the things she said  
Running through my head  
Running through my head  
Running through my head  
(Running through my head)_

_**

* * *

**_

Her curls tickled his nose. That night had been perfect.

In fact, the entire holiday had been his idea of perfection, even before they had set off from the apartment. The excitement Lavender could produce as she buzzed around the small apartment, summoning things from all directions, babbling about all she was going to see, how they would all be envious of her tan when she returned, how they had to take as many pictures as possible and goodness, had he seen where she had put that passport nonsense- _Accio passport! – _was infectious, though Gregory wasn't one for buzzing around. It tired him. As did watching her.

"Calm down Lavender," he had said, wrapping his arms around her and stopping the flurry of motion she had been in for what seemed liked hours.

"How can you be so calm Greg!" she said, pulling out of his arms after a quick kiss. "There's still so much to pack, and I've never done this Muggle thing before! Why are we not using a Portkey? Surely it would have been better than going on this airy plate thing!"

"It's an aeroplane, and you know I can't Portkey out of the country for at least another five years."

"Damn those damned laws! What is the point of keeping you locked in a country where they don't want you?"

"But they're not are they? We're going on holiday. Just the two of us. Away from everything."

And she calmed down enough to enjoy the taxi ride to the airport, her inquisitive nature overruling any further complaints she had about the Muggle mode of transport. This was the first time she had been in those black cabs she always saw zooming around London, and there were so many other things Muggles had she had never seen! When a Muggleborn colleague had gifted her with a television, she had seriously thought that was the end to their brilliance, but had she been wrong, oh so wrong.

And she told Gregory as much. And much more. And he listened with a smile on his face as always, because not only did he love the sound her voice, letting all that she said wash over him and cover him in warmth like the blanket his mother used to place over him when she tucked him tight at night, but because in the Muggle world they were free to hold hands, to show their affections openly. He hadn't realised how much holding her hand outside the apartment could mean to him.

Even when she fell asleep on the plane, having tired herself out through excitement and quite possibly the chatter that was more than her usual narrative, he could still hear her voice, see those bright blue eyes glancing up at him. He had fallen asleep, gazing out at the clouds and thinking how her hair which tickled his neck felt something like clouds might do. Heavenly.

The hotel, and their room, was everything he had hoped for. Muggles really weren't bad people. Just as he had asked, they had a large suite with a lavender theme. He loved the happy squeal she gave as she saw the white petals strewn all over the bed, and leading to a bath which was already filled and surrounded by lavender candles. He had figured she would want a bath after the flight.

"Oh Greg, this is amazing! I love it!"

And that was all he needed to hear to love it too.

Their time was spent - that is when they weren't making full use of the bed and the bath tub big enough for two - out seeing the sights and posing for pictures awkwardly whenever Lavender told him to, buying souvenirs for friends of Lavender's he had yet to meet (he bought a souvenir for Smithy, the door guy who he guessed he could class as a friend) and going to the beach and reading Muggle magazines whilst getting the much needed tan she reckoned they were both in dire need of or taking walks with the sunset in the background.

As the holiday drew to a close, on their penultimate night, he booked a table at a restaurant that he had been told was excellent for his needs. He had told her to wear her prettiest dress and he had worn his smartest trousers and shirt, smiling sheepishly when she told him he scrubbed up well. It was Italian, and she exclaimed she loved Italian though he had not known this before. He just smiled as if he had.

He waited until desert to get down on one knee, just as his mother had always told him he should do if he ever found the girl he truly loved, and taken out the ring he had bought months ago, but had never had the courage to give to the love of his life.

"Lavender Iris Brown, will you marry me?"

Her eyes had widened, and for a moment his heart had stopped, imagining that the next words to leave her mouth would be words of rejection. But they were quite the opposite.

"Yes! Yes! Of course I'll marry you Gregory Goyle!"

It had felt incredible to have the entire restaurant applaud them, thinking the newly engaged was one of their own. A complementary of bottle of champagne later, they were walking along the beach, Lavender clinging on to him with one hand, holding on to her shoes for dear life with the other. From what Gregory was beginning to understand about women, the more expensive the shoe, the more painful they were, but the more desirable.

After awhile, he offered to carry her and she did not refuse the offer.

Nuzzled into his chest, her slightly slurred words were no less rambling or wonderful than they usually were. He listened as always, taking in the smell of her shampoo tangled with the scent of the sea they walked along.

"People won't approve, you know, but you're worth it. Mummy and Daddy will just have to deal with it. And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Harry Potter has nothing on you."

And that's what he thought about as he lay in bed, holding on to his future wife.

It was always her he thought about (mostly), and her words always gave him hope.

* * *

_**A/N:** Since I just posted a new story I've been working on The Other Dursley (check it out!) I though it would only be right if I updated this. Enjoy, and remember reviews are much appreciated! :)_


	6. Chapter 6: Some Things Never Change

_Disclaimer: This rarely updated gem was inspired by the works of J.K. Rowling and t.A.T.U._

* * *

**Chapter 6. **

**Some Things Never Change.**

* * *

_All the things she said__  
__All the things she said__  
__Running through my head__  
__Running through my head__  
__All the things she said__  
__All the things she said__  
__(All the things she said)_

* * *

Lavender had told him that the pen was mightier than the wand. He wasn't so sure.

Her article comparing the prejudice towards Muggleborns and that now held towards Purebloods had brought much attention. Gregory wondered if her announcement of their engagement shortly after had been the best thing to do, though he begrudgingly agreed it was the right thing to do.

Owl after owl after owl arrived at their window, dropping mail, dropping Howlers, dropping whatever they were sent to drop.

He spent his spare time answering them as best as he could. He hated writing; Lavender bought him a quill that wrote for him. And so he would form apologies to those who had lost loved ones because of his father. Even the ones who sent him nasty potions that had him in St. Mungo's for a week, he wrote back and apologised.

All the while he wondered whether this was worth it, whether he was worth all the trouble she was putting herself through. Snide remarks from colleagues and strangers alike, the occasional attack with tricks bought from the likes of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes that had Lavender fuming about yet another dress ruined and Flooing her mother for ways to stop smelling like rotting egg, and the strained Sunday dinners now spent at Lavender's family home, where Rose Brown attempted to understand what it was about him that her daughter loved so much, and Jeremiah Brown's insisted on hating Greg solely because of his past.

"I love him Daddy, and if you love me, you'll learn to love him too!"

"I love you enough to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life!"

"Greg is a good guy! What, would you prefer it if I had married a war hero? A war hero who would currently be rolling into his big country house, kissing his pregnant wife with lips that have been with a different woman every night since he's been away on his mission? For me to be miserable?"

"It would be better than having a murderer for a son-in-law!"

"Greg is not a murderer!"

"It's okay, Lavender," Gregory began, placing a comforting hand on his fiancée's arm, hating to be the cause of yet another family dinner ruined, to see Lavender so upset and at odds with her father. "I can understand why-"

"No! It is not okay Greg," Lavender snapped, continuing to glare daggers at her obstinate father. " It is people like _you_ Daddy that I am trying to educate. Just like Muggleborns aren't second-class citizens, why should the children of Death Eaters suffer for who their parents were and what they did? Do you really think I would love him if he was such a bad person?"

"He's used the Imperius, hasn't he? How can we be sure this is really you?" Jeremiah turned to his wife. "Rose, how can we be sure that this person is actually our little Lavender?"

Silence fell on the dining table, the accusation heavy in the air.

Rose was the first to speak, standing and beginning to clear the table for her lovely trifle, that Greg loved and no one else really did, or else he ate large amounts to get into her good books and it was beginning to work.

"Nonsense Jerry," she said. "Greg can barely read, let alone keep up an Unforgivable. Isn't that right honey?"

Gregory smiled at the older woman, with the grey hair laced blonde hair, neatly pulled into a bun, with her daughter's warm blue eyes and welcoming nature. Lavender had inherited her no-nonsense bluntness from her, standing up to her husband when need be. Over the course of Sunday dinners Lavender dragged him to, refusing him to let him skip even when he'd spent all night thinking himself into an actual fever, Gregory had learnt that her father was where Lavender had inherited her non-stop talking.

"Yes, Mrs Brown."

"See dear? He's harmless. Now who wants some trifle?"

* * *

_This is not enough_  
_This is not enough_

* * *

Though Lavender's family came to warm to him, accepting him as a permanent new fixture to their family picnics, reunions and outings, despite their best efforts, it was never enough. It wasn't enough to curb the hatred that flew towards them when they walked down Diagon Alley, defiantly holding hands, flaunting their indifference to their hatred by gazing into shop windows like normal couples, and Gregory finally putting his foot down when Lavender attempted to deck the entire apartment in lavender. They quarrelled all the way to the pub, where they continued over their shepherd's pie despite the stares, and their argument wasn't over until she pulled him into bed and told him she loved it when he got all angry like that.

They were like any other couple, really.

His new status as Mr Lavender Brown brought him invites to formal events thrown by the Prophet, which his status at the company would have never offered him. The dividing line was clear to all. There were the supposed Good people and then the Evil Rich Scum who had somehow managed to worm their way out of captivity and into their society, scum who were clearly not welcome. Lavender dragged him to all her friends, he tried his best to be nice, but they soon walked away and left him standing, clutching his flute of champagne, awkward in whatever dress robes his fiancée had decided went with his eyes this time.

Despite his original desire to stand in the middle of the divide, Gregory soon gravitated to familiar faces he had known at Hogwarts, the men and women whose other half or parent's connections had saved them from hitting rock bottom, but life was never as it was before. Draco Malfoy was often there, with a new girl Gregory rarely remembered the name off. Pansy Parkinson, as far as Lavender knew, was in France and married to a French tycoon, expecting her first child.

Glasses of champagne bonded the two, and they became friends at these events, no longer Master and follower. Lavender did not like him talking to Draco, though she did not say anything knowing she'd be going against her own campaign, and Draco said his own fiancé was happy he finally had a friend to talk to at these things. She was some Editor of a feature Gregory never read. Most likely the Business section or the Witches Time feature.

"Hey Draco," Gregory said one evening, at an outdoors event, sitting at a table with Draco, doing what they always did: watching the Good people having fun and ignoring every attempt made by them to reintegrate. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing."

"Do you think it'll ever get better?"

"I'm not going to lie to you Greg."

Gregory sighed. "Thought so."

* * *

_**A/N** - Goodness, I've not updated in like forever! But here's a chapter for you lovely readers, and hopefully the next one won't take so long to be published. Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review and let me know what you think. Until next time!_


End file.
